Haiku-ing Home

Night in Columbus
and sushi eaten alone
makes me quite happy.

I'm back in Columbus as I compose this, for one last night before I return home after two weeks on the road, touting the book. I'm ready to go home and I can't wait for my own sheets and my own shower, but I'm still consciously enjoying the experience of being out here, wandering.

Let me tell you where I've been since I left home.

Atlanta:

Atlanta drivers,
You dent my rental car door
And piss me off, dude.

The rental car ding notwithstanding, my four days in Atlanta at Stitches South were terrific. One morning I went out early, looking for Wilderness. I found condos, instead. I must have been looking in the wrong place -- I know it's out there. But I did find the best barbecue and key lime pie I've ever had.

Columbus:

Sophie and Julie,
Excess vodka consumption --
Romantic Times rocks.

Five days, spent with writers and people in publishing, and ALL we do is talk writing. No one else but other writers could stand us. And even with the resulting debauchery that occurs when writers get together, it's still business, and feels like it. It's odd. And I like very little more. (In the picture are Lorelei James, me and Sophie Littlefield, on a pool table. I should put up a picture of Juliet Blackwell because she was a big part of the debauching, but my phone isn't cooperating right now. Picture her there, too.)

Maryland:

The scent of lilacs,
Occasional thunderstorm
Makes for good driving.

Oh, how great this was. Maryland Sheep and Wool, sevenish-hours from Columbus by rental car, was as hot and muggy as hell, but it was MDSW, so who cared? Sheep, alpacas, dogs trials... and the people! Oh, oh, oh. I loved the drive there (what's with the stars on the outside of houses, by the way? Does anyone know?), and I loved being there, and I even loved tearing down the booth with Morgaine and Lann (hard work, that -- I can feel it today).

And today I drove back, with all the time in the world (which I didn't have going there). I pulled over everywhere I felt like it. I saw a sign for the Forks of Cheat distillery in West Virginia and drove what felt like a million miles to find it, up and down winding roads set amid glorious green, fragrant swathes of countryside. I found it, and bought an apple pie flavored liqueur (gold medal winner!) from the rather dour fellow serving samples.

Later, I needed to know what the delicious scent was that was pouring in my car windows. So I got off the highway and got a little lost on a blue highway, pulling over to snap camera-phone pictures.

Anyone know what this flower is? I think this is where the smell was coming from, but honestly, it was hanging so heavy in the air that even putting the petals to my nose couldn't help me narrow it down. Is it some kind of lilac?

I listened to country music the whole way (not something I usually do, it seemed appropriate in this locale), and I enjoyed listening to the story of each song. Country singers do better with story than other kinds of music.

And then I found your new favorite radio station (listen online!) CD101, Columbus. (Not country.) Enjoy.

An airplane ride home
And a ride across the bridge
Gets me home at last.